


The Seer but I don't finish it and it's only two drafter chapters

by GalekhXigisi



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, M/M, Multi, Richie Tozier Has Powers, Richie is number Seventeen, Trans Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 18:46:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21462778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalekhXigisi/pseuds/GalekhXigisi
Summary: Richie gets dreams that link him to the past, present, and future.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	1. the opener where Richie gets a dream

_ “Eleven,” the boy whispers, his hand outstretched towards the girl who sat in the other room, their only peak at each other being a small screen between them. Seventeen frowns from behind the glass, only four years old as they watch the other sit with number Eight, the two playing. Seventeen wasn’t allowed near the others, not at all allowed to touch them in fear that they’d hurt the other occupants, their powers yet to be discovered. THeir head hurts as more tears fall, a man whose clothes are too white wrapping his arm around their arm and jerking them forward.  _

_ “Seventeen,” Papa says with a smile, one that makes Seventeen’s skin crawl like it was full of maggots, “Time for your bath.”  _

_ Seventeen shudders but follows willingly. If they didn’t, another day stuck without food would become their punishment. A bath was never fun, the child getting submerged in a tank with no way out, lowered in the lukewarm water that never felt comfortable. The helmet would keep them from drowning, sure, but it was bulky and always felt way too hot, making them panic more and more as they did their best to keep calm and breathe.  _

_ The walk ends far too quickly, the child stripped and forced into the skin-tight outfit and monitors that always made their head run too fast. The overstimulation urged on their powers, forcing them to move and work as they went beneath the water, eyes shut and senses getting numbed. Their body grows into a solid-state, child falling asleep slowly, submitted into the darkness they saw every single time they sat in the way. They focus on breathing, walking slowly through the darkness, water on the ground splashing with their movements.  _

_ They were used to seeing this, to seeing the darkness that always enveloped them and the never-ending nothing. Sometimes, there would be people, glimpses of faces they didn’t know yet, ones they knew they would see at some point, even if  _ ** _now_ ** _ wasn’t that point. They walk past the typical glimpses, ones of a girl with red hair and a chubby boy, ones with a clown who stands too close, and so on until he’s faced with something new. It takes hours of walking, hours of straining their body until they’re face to face with something new.  _

_ Eleven looked older, standing with a timid look to her, unsure of what to do at the creature before her. It feasts on something, hunched over something else. Eleven leans forward.  _

_ “Eleven,” Seventeen screams. It feels wrong. Eleven shouldn’t touch it, shouldn’t move forward.  _

_ She flinches for a moment, looking around as if she had almost heard them. Things like that happened sometimes when Seventeen tried to intervene. The people looked as if they had heard Seventeen, heard their desperate yelps of warning. Eleven pauses for a moment before leaning forward, finger pressing against the mucus-covered skin, a sticky sheen to it getting pulled away. The beast turns towards her, standing tall as it’s mouth opens. Eleven faces a million waves of panic within a singular moment, though she suddenly disappears, leaving Seventeen to face the creature that was suddenly bounding towards them, it’s face open and a disgusting noise leaving the creature that wasn’t going to give up until it had them in it’s sticky grasps. _

Richie leans up and sighs, running his hands through his mop of curls. His head hurts and his nose is bleeding. It wasn’t abnormal, nosebleeds always happened after dreams like these, ones that connected to his past since he was a child, memories he didn’t even remember until they were brought up to him in these horrid nightmares. After defeating Pennywise, he had revealed a million more things, things he wasn’t sure he could do but knew he had to at some point. The Upside Down liked to drag him in, the old Neibolt being one of the many portals to it. Thankfully, it had collapsed after the Losers club had defeated that icky beast, pulling Georgie from the rubble in a way Richie could only compare to what he had seen of Will, though he had never met the boy.


	2. i didn't finish this and am abandoning it bc i don't like it but it's writing so fuck it

Richie can’t shake the feeling that today is going to be bad. It’s an impending strike in his stomach, an impending pressure that presses harder and harder as the day goes on. It’s almost like knowing he was going to be sick, the constant gagging but lack of actual vomit telling it would be violent and horrid like someone sick with the flu would feel. That’s how Richie felt. Realistically, he doesn’t know why he feels this way, but he  _ does. _ He feels like he’s going to get punched, but it’s not that wave of ick he got just before the red sea parted. No, it was different, different like the way he felt the day he went into the arcade two days before the last day of school, being the first to see the clown that haunted his dreams since he was a kid. 

Now, Richie sits in the hammock, ignoring the way Eddie was pestering him about whatever comic managed to grab his interest for the moment. He couldn’t keep focus, even as he fidgeted with anything and everything, fanning himself with the broken paddle to Ben’s paddle ball. He couldn’t get rid of this nervous energy, no matter how much he repeated Eddie’s words in his head or told himself to focus. At some point, his breathing became quicker and the room felt like it was getting hot. And suddenly, Richie wasn’t breathing or hot at all. He was plunged into darkness, breathing stopped as he felt the ground beneath him, water coating his hands and knees from where he held himself up on the ground. It was cold, he realized, when his breathing started again. 

_ “Hello,” _ he calls, though it’s soft and terrified as he stands. He stumbles for a moment, breathing becoming labored and tears burning at his eyes. It’s  _ terrifying, _ standing in this place he hasn’t been in since he was a child, never genuinely standing there since those moments where he felt like he was drowning. He couldn’t remember who could pull people towards them, who could summon others to the unfortunate middle. However, one name does come to mind. 

In a desperate attempt, the scream leaves him,  _ “Eleven!”  _

It’s like getting punched in the gut when one moment he’s alone, and the very next, a girl is in front of him, staring at him with wide eyes, a bloody nose of her own. It only takes a second for Richie to see if his own is bloody. 

“Mike,” she asks before Richie has a chance to say anything else. It makes his stomach flip. 

Richie is quick to shake his head, breathing somewhat calming. “N - No! I’m Richie! S - Sevente - teen!” 

“Seventeen,” Eleven slowly repeats, confusion clear as her brows knit. 

He nods, stomach twisting. Tears well up in his eyes as he forces down the fear that seems to be overwhelming him. “Did you call me here,” he asks, wiping his nose, “Because I wasn’t here two minutes ago.” 

She shakes her head, confused. “I don’t know you,” she slowly says. 

Richie nods again. She probably wouldn’t, not at all. They weren’t close, not even when they were the final two in the left wing of that horrid  _ place. _ The window had been removed at some point and Richie was never sure what to do about it. He missed the girl, missed speaking with her through the window when they were children. Richie had escaped when he was seven, three years of being alone in that shitty isolated room finally forcing the seemingly “normal” boy to run. 

“Who  _ are _ you?” 

“Seventeen,” Richie repeats, “Richie Tozier of Derry, Indiana, son of Maggie and Wentworth Tozier, property of the Losers Club,” he spews. He always told people (most) of that when they asked, though the dreams never went that far. “And you?” 

“Eleven Jane Ives Hopper Byers,” she says slowly, as if she were new to it, “Daughter of Terry Ives, now deceased, officially Jim Hopper and Joyce Byers’ daughter, now.” She looks him up and down for a moment before continuing, “Of Hawkins, Indiana, my loyalties with the Party.” 

“So formal,” Richie sighs, “Where’s Eight? Is she still alive? Do you know?” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo I quit this story because I fucking hate it already and if you hate it by the second chapter and haven't stopped by the third, it ain't gonna get better too much sooner

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments and theories about this/how you'd like this to go!  
here's my discord server!  
https://discord.gg/eGkwayy


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